I’ve always been a fan of the Pimsleur language lessons. Unlike very traditional ways of teaching foreign languages, they don’t make you learn vocabulary lists and grammatical rules. Unlike more modern systems, they don’t try to teach you phrases. There’s no written textbook, just a bunch of CDs (or these days MP3s). And they throw you right in at the deep end.

At the start of each Pimsleur course, a soothing voice says something like “Welcome to Pimsleur Klingon part one, lesson one. Listen to the following conversation.” And then you hear something that sounds like this. The soothing voice comes back and says “in 30 minutes you’ll hear that again, and you’ll understand it.” And then you’re introduced to the different sentences, and told to repeat stuff. “Repeat this: tlhab ‘oS ‘Iw HoHwI’ So’ batlh” they’ll say, and you’ll stumble your way through it. Then they’ll get you to repeat “tlhab” on its own a few times. For complicated words they’ll break it down, and get you to repeat the last bit first, gradually building up. “I”. “wI”. “oHwI”. “HoHwI”. After 30 minutes of this, your brain is aching, and then they play the conversation you heard at the start — and it makes perfect sense!

Quite incredible.

So what’s this all got to do with teaching programming? Well, we were looking for a decent “Python for non-programmers” course that we could use, and while we found a couple, they all seemed to have the same problem — they’d work by gradually introducing simple concepts, and after twenty pages you might have learned enough to write a trivial program.

That’s not how any of us learned programming. Instead, we tended to pick it up bit by bit by inspection of complete working bits of code. For me, it was typing in listings from the home computing magazines that I bought. (Note for younger readers: listings were printed programs in magazines in the days when disks were too expensive to give away with magazines. (Note for even younger readers: disks were primitive USB-stick-like things that people used to use to store data, and were often attached to magazines as a way of passing data from magazine to reader in the days when you couldn’t just put a URL in the article text. (Note for yet younger readers: magazines were collections of very thin slices of wood on which text and images were “printed” using chemical dyes, which could be purchased in places called shops. They were popular in the Dark Ages before the Facebook.)))

That way of learning — which must be even easier now that any aspiring programmer can look at the source of tons of open source software, or just view the source of any web page — was quick, efficient, and got you straight to a position where you felt you’d achieved something. You’d written your first program! You could change the bits you understood, and leave the rest for a later day when you knew more. A great way to learn, as well as being excellent training for later days when you find yourself maintaining some horrific codebase written by someone who thinks that operator overloading is the best thing since sliced bread.

So, my theory for the first part of this tutorial — and, if it works out, for any following ones — is that each should start with a program listing that the reader won’t understand yet, but should be able to understand with a little explication. Core concepts should be drilled in by relentless repetition. No baby-talk — start using the technical terms straight away, and then repeat them enough that if the reader forgets what “variable” means then they can work it out from context. And aim to get them from knowing nothing to simple OO and functional programming in five half-hour lessons.